How Deep is Your Snow – To the Tune of How Deep is Your Love w/Barking Dogs.

While taking my poor convalescing mutt, Jenny, for a walk on the front lawn, I got heel dragged across the snow, despite the surgical collar she wore.

Think Queen Elizabeth.

Queen Elizabeth's Collar

See the resemblance?

Jenny's Elizabethan

Jenny dragged me until I slipped, releasing the retractable lead that used my face to stop the backward slide. After stars stopped circling my head, I got up and chased Jenny for several snow-slogging seconds before nabbing her. A slight turn of her Elizabethan head allowed me to grab hold of the dog death star and reattach the lead.

The incident occurred in twelve-inch deep snow prior to the Tuesday storm that dumped twenty-two inches of sky poop onto our already snow spattered lawn. Twenty-two inches plus twelve. Let’s do the math. While I wait for you to find a calculator, I will provide a visual aid.

To put the storm residue into perspective, now we’ve got enough snow to build a block of bird condo igloos.

The Tuesday storm created chaos at the supermarket Monday night when I headed to the Stop & Shop to pick up essential items: beer and frozen pizza. Apparently, the frigid temperature outside wasn’t enough to deter me from pillaging the frozen food section.

While in the fast food section, or pre-made meal emporium, I almost got into a fist fight with a woman who shoved past me to grab the last two boxes of fried chicken. Desperate times call for desperate measures. Even so, I took the high row past the cooking wine and didn’t deck her in front of her two kids. I couldn’t risk dropping the beer and pizza.

I escaped the supermarket still clutching the essential items and jumped into my car parked in a “mother with infants space.” Please don’t judge me because of my parking space faux pas. It was late, the parking lot was empty and I couldn’t distinguish the “gimp space” from the “mother with infants” space and the “free parking space.” Oh, that’s Monopoly. Besides, I didn’t see any infants in the diaper aisle.

I was just glad to get out of there alive.

Fast-forward three days later – You TiVoed it, right?

Today, Friday, I remain locked inside my house waiting for the malevolent snow to disappear or to wake up from this creepy lucid dream in which I wear boots and ski pants even though I don’t know how to ski. I pinch my arm and scream. Damn it! I’m awake and the dog is whining to go out.

I’ll wait five more minutes then pinch the other arm. Maybe there’s still hope that this is a dream within a dream. Otherwise, I’ll need the carpet cleaner.

How deep is your snow?
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